


brighter lights fill the night

by optimusfine



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Arizona Coyotes | Phoenix Coyotes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 20:19:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/optimusfine/pseuds/optimusfine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Biz leans in to look closer, trying to figure out if Taylor's eyes are really as blue as he thinks they are, and blinks in surprise when he hears the way Taylor's breath hitches. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	brighter lights fill the night

**Author's Note:**

> TODAY IS BIZ'S BIRTHDAY, WHEEEEE. also this takes place in the weird 'verse me and charlie have where biz lusts after taylor but taylor is seemingly aloof and also there are ~feelings~ etc.etc IT'S GREAT IF ANYONE WANTS TO TALK TO TALK ME ABOUT IT THAT WOULD BE GREAT??? :D also, fic title taken from _captains and cruise ships_ by owl city.

Biz's ears are still ringing from the music in the club, the bass skittering under his skin even though he's at home and has been for hours. He's more than a few drinks past slightly tipsy and is hovering on being pleasantly buzzed, because he'd taken a good majority of the team and then some out tonight to celebrate his birthday, and the super hot bartender had been more than willing to give him free shots when she'd found out it was his birthday.  
  
He'd stumbled home before anything had happened, though, and is now relaxing on his couch, staring at the TV like it'll magically turn itself on.  
  
It isn't though, fucking lazy TV. The nerve of it. Doesn't it know it's his fucking birthday? He's 27 fucking years old today, can't it do him this one solid?  
  
There's a knock on the door, and he still has enough sense to know that the door won't open by itself, unfortunately, so Biz pushes himself off the couch and stumbles over to the door, pulling it open.  
  
He's not drunk, he knows this.  
  
He _knows_ this.  
  
Which is why it makes no sense that Taylor Pyatt is standing on his doorstep, tucked into his jacket because it's actually been sort of cold and windy at night recently, looking like he's about ready to bolt.  
  
Taylor's eyes are wide and... really fucking blue, holy shit.  
  
Have they always been that blue?  
  
Biz leans in to look closer, trying to figure out if Taylor's eyes are really as blue as he thinks they are, and blinks in surprise when he hears the way Taylor's breath hitches.  
  
"Biz," Taylor says, soft and breathy, like he doesn't realize he's saying it, and Biz looks up at Taylor as Taylor licks his lips, and oh.  
  
 _Oh_.  
  
"Oh," Biz says out loud, straightening up and leaning against his doorframe. "Oh, hey, wait, that was hot. Do that again."  
  
Taylor blinks.  
  
"What?"  
  
Biz curls his fingers around Taylor's wrist and tugs him inside, moving with more coordination than he should considering how much he had to drink tonight, and it's easier than he thinks it should be to press Taylor against the back of the door.  
  
Taylor just stares at Biz with his fucking blue eyes, tendons in his wrist flexing as he wiggles his fingers slightly, but he makes no other move to get out of Biz's grip.  
  
"Um," Taylor starts, eyes glancing to the side, and Biz leans in Taylor's way so that Taylor is still looking at him.  
  
"Happy birthday?"  
  
It's then that Biz realizes two things:  
  
One, this is _Taylor fucking Pyatt_ he has pinned to his door. Taylor "never says more than two words to anyone except Biz, as he's just realized" Pyatt, Taylor "apparently shows up on Biz's doorsteps at 11 at night to wish him happy birthday" Pyatt.  
  
Two, Taylor doesn't have a gift.  
  
"The fuck?" and Biz moves to step back because wow, he is really confused, what the fuck is happening? Maybe this is all just a dream because he fell asleep on the couch and Taylor didn't really show up on his doorstep to wish him happy birthday and stare at him with those fucking doe eyes.  
  
Only he can't, because Taylor looks faintly amused, which is really a good look on him, and his hand is sliding around the back of Biz's neck.  
  
"You look good when you smile," Biz tells Taylor, the second before Taylor shakes his head and moves in.  
  
The kiss is softer, gentler than Biz was expecting, even though this is Taylor and if Biz hadn't seen him fight on the ice, he'd be sure that Taylor is the type of person who's never even harmed a fly.  
  
"I said," Taylor says, eyes bright and yep, still really fucking blue. "Happy birthday."  
  
"If that kiss was all you got me," and really, Biz thinks he has the right to be a little upset if that's it, because three months of dancing around Taylor, of making sure not to push too hard and startle him, have got to get him more than that.  
  
"Shut up," is Taylor's response before Biz can even finish bitching, and his nails slide over the back of Biz's neck like he _knows_ that's a secret spot for Biz, and Biz curls his fingers in the fabric of Taylor's worn t-shirt, hitching it up just enough that he can press his palm to the warm skin of Taylor's stomach.  
  
A part of him knows that he still needs to be careful, because this _is_ Taylor, and God knows that last thing he wants to do is erase three months of work.  
  
But the other part is focused on the feel of having Taylor pressed up against him, fucking _finally_ , and the way Taylor's skin jumps underneath Biz's fingers when he drags them deliberately over Taylor's stomach.  
  
Everything has taken on a sharp quality, not even close to being dulled by the haze of drink, and Biz can feel more than hear the hum Taylor makes in the back of his throat, especially when he relaxes under Biz, parting his lips.  
  
Biz licks into Taylor’s mouth, still soft and deliberate because he knows how Taylor can be, and he’s rewarded with Taylor’s hand curling around the side of Biz’s neck, thumb swiping over his pulse point.  
  
But there’s still something tense in Taylor’s stance, in the way he makes a startled, not exactly pleasant noise against Biz’s lips when Biz hooks his finger in his belt loop, and Biz pulls away.  
  
“Wait,” Taylor says with wide eyes, like Biz is actually going to _go_ somewhere, and Biz shakes his head. His palm is still pressed against Taylor's stomach, and he can feel the way Taylor's breathing has sped up.  
  
"You can- I mean, if you want-" as Taylor curls his fingers around Biz's wrist, pushing down gently.  
  
It's everything Biz has wanted for the past few months, Taylor wide eyed and panting underneath him, but Taylor is trembling slightly, eyes wide with something that isn't lust, and Biz frowns.  
  
"No," he murmurs, shaking his head even though it makes the room spin -- damn tequila -- and leans in to kiss Taylor again.  
  
"Don't you want-?"  
  
"Fuck yeah I do," Biz cuts Taylor off before he even has the chance to spout any of the bullshit he knows is coming, and presses his palm to Taylor's skin, higher up, near his sternum this time. It's not even remotely sexual in nature, and he feels Taylor relax under his hand.  
  
"But not like this."  
  
Taylor just sort of stares at him for a few seconds, comprehending, and then he goes pliant against the door, pulling Biz closer into him even though all he does is brush his lips over the corner of Biz's mouth.  
  
"Okay," he says softly, relief evident in his tone, the softness around his eyes that Biz has never seen, and Biz sighs.  
  
"Thanks, Taylor."  
  
Taylor tips his head to side, looking so much like a puppy that Biz laughs, leaning in to soothe the hurt expression that flashes over Taylor's face with a kiss, and holy fuck. He's allowed to do that now.  
  
"Happy birthday," Taylor murmurs, and Biz smiles.  
  
Best birthday _ever_.


End file.
